on a nowhere train to sunrise

      GRAFFITI EPIPHANIES

on a nowhere train to sunrise  

 

 Gabrielle B-G

 

Serenity

in every moment walking with the unchanging mind
of peace leaving no one behind

no door locked from the outside
no body chained from
the inside no regrets for
what they can’t hide
praying for God’s eternal
light…

to illuminate the path
from the hounds who bite
from
those that incite
those dog days to fight

 

 

Madness Mine

I know it’s not your real name
I know we don’t even seem the same
our faces were not perfectly framed
although we all glow under the bright light
of our reels of every-day movie fame
and a shattering discord of notes

tethered to our dry frantic display game
they could not portray our diaphanous state
something of which many cannot relate

I was born from your abstract importance
your wretched starry gaze into the others’ portents
I was molded, crafted and assumed alike
to smolder upon the fire of a mighty desire
just to be, to breathe and be

lit like an empire

when I’m clutching the blanket and the
memories start to dance like shadows
on the walls, they dance and claw
at all that is bereft all they left of me
still I fight a battle to award strife
toward life, a better life, a goldly light
a new start, a bitter-broke heart
maybe torn apart, between worlds apart
just a tiny spark, that lights the way
for another laughing bubbly day

Dear schizophrenic, do not need to feel sad you see
I won’t tell you it always is so difficult
I wasn’t born for this menagerie
it is never easy

I was a festival of dreams all deferred
to this spectacle, spectacularly
however, through crafting my poetry
I found a way out of the maze of madness
and departed from the sad soliloquy
to triumphantly live with my memories
through the cinema of my speech.

 

 

 

 

Calvary of the Lost

by Gabrielle

Something happened, when the moon eclipsed
a brightness opened between me and the sky
a third world full of rain not fire
not a false machine empire…
it was like something opened up deep inside
like a secret room, or a spaceship hidden within
and that was when it happened, when the
two galaxies collided….

that’s the end of the story
of a beautiful impossible universe
I told you that story once before…
and I’ll tell you it again
because everyone wanted to be first and
— they tried to ruin everything —
by cursing people like us…

abandoned by my dreams delirium
I nurse my head with riddles and recipes
a panacea of prescriptions for
the summer-land disease…allowing
only bitter-sweet reprieve

of a soft whisper on the wind
hush little star trapped in my mind
no… it was not for a lie…I just
liked to believe that I could fly…

is it too tragic to defy the laws of physics
to turn something so brutal and terrifying
To turn a world inside out because
its better to laugh at nothing
Just to know you can still laugh at all
something like a secret no one could ever know
a secret that set you apart
A secret that would break your heart

She turned him into a Cheshire-Cat-Prince
And he made love to girls and hoped for more
In cut out magazine clippings modeled for war
they were all sad.. and they took endless trips
Through mazes of nothing but dreams
Deferred…pictures that didn't match up
in fact all the colors sort of ended up blurred…
and just fizzled up to the top, spilling over.

like a tree you can’t climb…or a song you can’t rhyme…
and a nightmare that you are all alone and scared you are
always falling …from here to there
with his ego and subliminal charm
he dares you to find shelter
so unfair; you’ll never get me back there
you can’t take me back anywhere

I swallowed him whole as I watched
the world being swallowed by the sound
of the ground and the thoughts of that just
made me feel profound…I lost control
and I lost my way back home….
a star somewhere, a Roman with no satellite
a roaming omen.

while he buried my ghost
below the dark redwood trees…
I was the cure not the disease…

I was never a prophet, but I loved
to write

my thoughts across your veins
like graffiti that could stain the forgotten oak leaves of autumn
of the ashes of our histories
as they try to blot out the sun with more fake new stories
and burn out our memories
that are now merely a fable or mystery
a million endless suns of a century

forgotten epiphanies
to be narrated by the masked magicians
or some fake puppet politicians…
To capitalize on and assume — for some causal annihilation
some false victory…without meaning..
or bravery

The Calvary
a brutal army of unread poetry
Ready to fight and yet we were also
the unheard voices that still haunt the world at night.

 

for words for strife
against the wards they put up
words on our lives

God can see inside your prison
its time to wake up right

 

 

Osiris Reborn

by Gabrielle

from the mountain of Demeter hear a plea of equity
in my tears of hope for the entry

….my words are just words… prostrate to the one
my visions

rays of the nothing…spiraling into heaven
fantasy of Elysium

his shield had her name written on it
the name of his mother, and above all
his father’s first letter

his father in whom he had pride and confidence
the source of his wisdom
of men not fools

the creator of ideas
an inventor of timeless volumes of space
sealed with zeal full of idealism
wrapped in wool

a veil over her face

she carried him toward the river
in the wars of Oceania
of Grace

his sister would be called a sinner
they came from the sky

and no one is perfect, no more pure nor brave
then those whose honor
is worthy to be saved….

because no people deserves to die
world that they had called home
a home of freedom
for-claimed an Age of Aquarius

From since beyond time
since beyond the arch atlas
to the heroes of Nitro who were sublime
warriors of Athena and Rome
Part of the Golden Eon of Saturn
Return of Capricorn
Osiris reborn…

from both sea sky and human-unicorns

amen.

Chipped like china

Just look around

a teacup from her aunt, made in china
like the infant eyes of a star
that was the ghost of my future Sophia
i wonder where you are.

blacked out again, a vision of the light
softly railing against the twilight window
a sailor who cannot break the fight
grounded to the wires of machines

let go and float away like a cloud
like a seagull freed from the past
castles washed away like our lands
like a dream slipping through her hands

chipped like China — like history
these fragile moments of beauty and wonder
these fragile memories
innocent adventures
in the veins of their histories

as we circle the graves of their Indian empire
and burn this age to its skeletal core
to the new ages, blowing smoke rings into the sky
instruments of our affair with monopolistic lie

the illusion of a democracy and dont say
we are not free anymore

Just look around….

its the same as it was before

Crying Colonial Tears

tears for the colony
tears for the industry
tears of a monopoly

I used to have visions of the future, premonitions
often, they’d come true but I was called crazy for it
then I decided I would accept the label of crazy

only to secretly influence a willful collective destiny
I wished upon a star in the world of Eurasia

in other lives I was born to a sad colonial empire
a worthless bride to a cowboy with a gun
a prideful flower ever growing to the sun
My dreams created your bible stories
My dreams were like metaphors for bible stories

i danced in a broken war-torn borderline city
I was spinning endlessly through the great depression
my romance became a great hurricane
That destroyed your plutocracy plot

the world I remembered I forgot
and everyone else did not care

a million dying affairs with life
And oxygen, a demon called red
who wanted to paint the the totems of our heads

because she loved a natural death
and she deserved to have her rites read aloud
to be sung about her songs out loud

just as she loved the winter’s breath on her skin
as she courted with the dark ones in the night
the manifestations of a sacrificial artifact

in the new world order, she dreamed against a
bullet-train war torn world
of going backwards and forwards on a stair

and so she did one thousand times
and every single time it would rhyme
but nobody seemed to care.

 The Phonographs

I fell through a silver screen
Became some automaton
A strange foreign thing, being human
I loved the melodies of summer

Though I’d collected all my histories
And documented all my sorrow
I fell endlessly through seashells
And became sad like machines of tomorrow

Singing to the moon in the rain

broken minds painted into frames
where crow angels used to pray to flying airplanes
the rain would always fall somehow
we kept forgetting how to die, knowing

your dreams were just machinations
A Phonograph in my head
as I lay these notions down to bed
and imagined a plutocracy that was great

crying tears of pain, for you, I am insane
Instead of hearing the music I made often
re-creating memories that made no difference
no sense, somehow moments had been

of these disappearing seconds and hours
of these cracking thunderbolts against our towers
of these voices of sorrow and tearful melodies
of staring into the depths of an endless ocean

  said

I drew his heart in the sand and your tears
washed my body away

God said its not a voice inside your head
The disease is an illusion
You don’t belong in a mental prison
God said, I am still here above
God said, don’t forget to forgive and love

God said you will be one of the first
God showed me the world before and after
And the halls between the starry verse
God said this is my masterpiece, my creation

God said, its more than a novel, your imagination
God said when you close your eyes
And see the colors flickering that’s the sound of harmony
God said yes trinity, Yes Sophia, Yes free

God said there’s more than three
and I love you forever infinitely

God said never surrender, Godly

God said sunshine sweet ember butterfly
Angel, word, prophet

illuminated, a song, borderline adventure queen

obscene Scheme, secret, mystery, unfolding like

Roses, Moses, rivers givers and forgiving
Your father, mother brother teenage poems dispersing ink
emotions drowning from the ocean

and me. A double rainbow, or maybe three.
Someday you’ll circle the world
Like she. like she will she did maybe

….a warm breeze on the beach in the city
of Summerland, where we spend our endless Septembers
drawing our married plans to each other in the sand

 Open Prisons

Prisons were built for Pirates

for Minds like ours
for people like US

and an open-air prison like this was
made to seem right

and just so you would drink your milk with a parody for capture
and honey-liquid rapture

visions for little windows and pretty schisms
for our fake affliction and Petty sons to grow old in
an addiction to additional dictionaries
for words that mean nothing
for a world that meant less.

Brave New …. lie

Golden and creepy
Marilyn Manson

conspiracy theories and allegories

here I sleep raging to my voices like Elliott smith
between the bars as if it were my only prison
the sandy shore is my fate, to death I must row
no horizon in sight, just a murderous army of vultures gathering aloft
an army of cultists parading as Christian
the charlatan elites they should all be dead
unto the the snow and the sleet

won, so he concealed his smear — as the lipstick smears the devil threatens to engineer more experiments.

wishes fulfilled to the witch dressed in the sultry shame raped — -to dream of not climbing endless stairs to an obsolete sky, dotted blankets — the sky is nothing but a pretty blank slate

light, and I swear by my life — to all mens eyes that lie
Immortal heir am I heir to the throne

before your sleepy eyes
all the while I hear a man say he is God between tears,
between the world he cries.

volumes of empty dust do muster in the dimmest corners in the
wake of a monster, skeletons they come to life, combing the static halls of my dreary mind, calling me to save them from the wicked virus to machine.

over his screaming temples profane Christ marries himself and under gasoline-soaked horizon
she cried like the ocean and swallowed her own absence
craven like madness, like the woman who was sallow and stiff to touch as she must have been slipped a pill

what a dish, to be handed over like a cadaver on display
for the monarchy to hide in solitude — her sparkling fire conditional
to warm the kings feet the servant of her own undermined condition
to be a woman scorned, to be born to a world
of madmen only dreaming to touch the sun like Icarus
or an unforgiving shaman, a Viking a true victor over Solomon.

She stares into the empty mirror, an obelisk of a

pupil in an opaque church suffering black hysteria — a seething empire of spider-like vampire parasites —

Jill pretends that she is alone when the video stops
but she is still accepting of the fact that they did not know
she is still not in fucking denial. she watched the garden grow
writhing with snakes and worms
she still watered the flowers as the seasons turned

because for the crystal tower, we’ll build walls around your cathedral of blame and create an absolution and it will just be ok — just a game that made no sense to anyone, our ancestors or the remains of Avalon
because I love you, and you are gone. I am not a child, Im not chicken fodder for your lovely children to eat — -I am a Viking whose dreams
you loved to slaughter.

Just. Because. of. nothing. and because I am a woman.

Love is like this — she says — she has His unborn destiny, dangling from her like a talisman from her fingers like the cure for a dead crow disease
a flute of dandelion dreams, lies soaked in kerosine because love is the only freedom a woman claimed she
follows the breadcrumb trail of crack, pills, a dope

A finish line with a needle and a rope — how is that for hope?

lost in the snow under their boots — the cardinal is the blood of our enemy
we wear crimson for China

little boys tethered to kites flying hopes and dreams into the nightmare storms created by their fathers’ demons deferred differential to The Greed of Pipelines for Blood clots and heart attacks obscured over the charred seas of scorn — I see the pyramid formations fly into mystery

looking for a new pollution to consume fomation of misery
like the politics of an empty parking lot, heralding some sort of truce between me and a cardboard universe with an apathetic corporation in charge
who is just a machine….

their vacant empty minds with alum white powder to hide the
frown lines and aging pains, plum lipstick stained for occasions
rehearsed, heard only on canons between the telephone lines

choking us as we fall into a synesthetic lullaby

conditions now listless for labeling that were pre-destined a victoriousness
Mourning every stupid boy You want to remind me of the difference between I cant and a cursed universe

I can and a deferred dream a crumbled-up story that meant nothing her life at the bottom of a trash can wish fulfilled, the promise kept I denied it long ago for I suffered of faith

Now I see the light it enveloped me in prayer Seeing your grace, as if your shoulders were wrapped in wings to drown them with the pessimistic rhymes that make us lullabies for peace his hand measuring, lingers for truth brutally….of haves and nots

seeking sleep, I am waking in soma, soaking in sorrow bittersweet harmony

with sad tears like the ghosts of Tudor over everything. She’s weeping bitterly, they’ll reap her words remaining like fields of flame, naming her blamed empire the same Across the sky’s upturned ground

She will be hanging loosely, between herself and one unanimous lie.

 

Future, Unknown

and the doctoring of history

you undress me with your crystal-blue eyes
your tongue tracing my form
interrogating me about my sexual frustrations
and you seem so warm

dreaming of drinking the saline of my ocean
not realizing that there is no tomorrow
for my patient compliance

and the magic potions, they no longer have an effect
your masked authority
I can easily reject, while you attempt to objectify
this, you’ll soon regret.

If only I could take it further and
stand naked before all of them, these
strange doctors — with a prescription

for my fictional disorder and unchanging rage
if only I would have let you
tear these bandages from my shapeless frame

and be another sexless mind
surfacing from a future century
wiped of her monarchy….

if only I could be running up that hill
if only I could feed the fish in the oceans
and turn my poetry into a prayer

these saturnine devotionals

and stop tripping over the steppingstones
toward your sand-man-foundation
stop a new world order from re-engineering
every black-on-white commercial

a matrix of static on the tv screen
stop the masked hand-wives from
uprooting roses in her gardens where
the monolithic statue once stood
following tunnels under pyramids built before time
shipping oil to an empty machine

unmask these magicians, create rainbows
out of music sung to flowers and rain

get them to stop wandering the desert searching for peace
in a story that was un-written and re-wrote

by a ghost trapped in a golden lamp

for a king that ruled by false authority. compelling
riddles for snakes and truth surpass all hope

rewording our memories as the times they had stacked
a force

against us, a common foe, a communist virus
like a spider, a parasite was engineered
to conquer the very cure — this Venus Aphrodite

who through wisdom of dragons, breathed us a summer from snow
for her courage, strong
could burn through the snow-storm
could burn through all their wrongs.

wish all the angels were still widely known
at war with our negative spaces, our falling from grace
in a place with none

the virginal brides who rode broomsticks
their daughters cleaned the cobwebs from
a shared answer to an unreachable destiny

they reached at the sky, oh ancestry

their soldier sons aging skeletons
in the age of revelations
and mind control, arc of Joan.

If only there were less borders, more doctors with souls
more places for the doctors who roam
where our catatonic future sleeps, all alone
speaking in foreign tongue of disconnected verses

all different versions for the same — unknown
in a universe full of light and life

feeling more and more like home.

 

lady with the broken heart

I guess I . just wanted to believe in myself.

but sometimes its not good for my health

to follow their trains in circles
spinning my wheels in a thunderstorm
dreaming of making love under a moon shadow
in the shadow of my dead dreams unborn.

the lovebirds lied
you got married to my love affair with suicide.

 

The Ugly Housewife

. fuck America
I love u.

she drowned her sorrows of no tomorrows

he left his top hat by the window, elliot smeared her kisses on

the napkins set for a judicial table

in a shipyard carnival for cannibals
from a world long ago — time travelling somewhere down the wires

in her perfume bottles for those who were so hallowed
her portrait smiled at the wandering eyes

she drowned in the lake by the Moore hillside.

her life was a red bird — -a feathered kite
angelic intuition
a world full of inspiration

a secret hall of dimensions
a beautiful mosaic
a masonic

reincarnation — -he said child you see the world through this ruby stained window

God…

The soldier’s name was Eno

Catholic school January snow

a Friday the thirteenth Leviathan incantation

transforming into a butterfly

never-understood-why-they followed me

always going home somewhere

in the third world’s nation

built gates around our lamp posts to light the way to Rome.

 

 

Chaos Theory

I took my stupid happy pills
paranoid schizophrenic mind control disease
they say it runs in the family

they shut me up in a white room in good faith
said take your pills because there is only

NO OTHER OPTION THAN JILL

said to follow their fingers as they pointed flashlights
to where my body lingered

to stare at the portrait of an american family —
and laugh at the pretend doctors with real
certifications.

Im non-binary having suspended all belief
fuck this assimilated conspiracy and their cloning our bodies
planting their seeds in their, I’ll keep it brief
Gated Gardens for another
mother from another

Offspring — to a barricaded
answer to a why

Oh no sister, Oh no sister
Nicotine resistor
Overdosed

you complicit implicatory
False victory

I didn’t pay your stupid happy bills
I was injected for thrills
Abilities liquidated for a lie
Abilify Machinations why overdose on a slow suicide

I wish I could fly
like a red bird from Russia
right in through the social distortion
commit a trump-abortion

His mother was an aberration
I was addicted to the bipolar dream
I was addicted to the melancholy drill
Jason
I was in Dresden and turned inside out
and now I can only cry
like a bitch President, like a trapped resident

in a monumental evil
moment of a lie
I cannot whisper, I cannot shout
But a baby can still cry.

 Conspiracy Theaters

& Theories for heroes

You opened the book, it seemed to be written in a sense — obscure
the one I wrote with my poetry ABC Im in love with the century
ABC Im in love with a serial conspiracy

Joe the cop, Joe the plumber, Joe the pez dispensers
madness man a man in suspenders
someone might get suspended on twitter for

a fleet a secret — — -labels and libelous lies
swear words to torture evil minds

Trumpian elite — tweets — on easy street
sweet tea
Mcdonalds
Sheetz, a dream machine and doing the impossible

conquering the impossible feats
a phonograph, secret photographs
a honey stash full of cash in their islands
a bunch of stars — false starts and a trap
a cool cat who is a copy

Marilyn Manson and a room full of hacks
of a cap. a cornucopia of lights to follow that led to
a rat trap — -honey Im trapped
Honey I’ve been tapped — -my whole life

I followed the money across the wiretaps

Like the CIA — I chased myself
into darkness

they held a knife to my throat
handed me the key to a safe
said its safe to open but when I walked into the room
the safe was empty and already broken into
and he told me I needed to do a ritual
said he wished it was me not her the.one.who.he.wanted.murdered.

to bring back a fallen angel
than he overdosed on a Hollywood heroine
and now he dreams in a million different angles

to me she was always one
just like me — only — -to my enemies
I’d be more cruel, deathly with my kisses
a broken curse and our wishes
she wouldn’t have come with me anyways

Joe the cop, Joe holds a knife at the sky

said close your eyes and dont — pretend
that Im living in a simulated universe

he drives me to a orchard, everyone panics
someone is screaming on the phone
“I thought this was a party” he says its project x

Mom, red feather, a hole in my sweater
Mom, FBI opp — 911, Joe the plumber and the president
Joe the cop, the stupid secret plot
Plot I forgot. Tim
the dot. I dont trust anyone named joe
The dot dot dot dot psiop secret
plot I forgot. The glitch, the glitch that was not…
trump spygate — -snowden — the plot plot plot
illuminati

twitter troll false flag Bugatti cyber proxy stupid dreams about being on top

of clones and vanguard
of vanguard and my shares
liquidated but who cares
elon does — fuck off elon musk
there’s no one we can trust.

ashes to ashes and dust to us bitches
the ones they switched for whores
and drank twisted tea on the highway
to wal mart supercenter
Fourth of july Im on another ecstasy bender

switch off

switch on for Exxon, not an ex

moron

switch off everyone Hillary Clinton
light switch, beating on the itch
switch on switch off She is a witch
Im on the blacklist
shadow banned
hunting predators in my ray-bans Clap clap microsoft…clap clap clap
capitalism
life is a beautiful prism

just messing with you
Its more like a sitcom
for a bunch of illegal wars like Vietnam

aliens, neanderthal
New Zealand, France
Virginia

its not new, I just thought….dot dot dot
dot dot dot…nevermind
why not….dot dot dot dot since when was this normal

what time was it before
blowing smoke rings like a random
bubble bubble I’m not sorry
Pfizer trials, ID theft and trouble
Demoracy died in
a cloud on a chromebook
just how many pieces of the jigsaw puzzle
jill, until they let me out this snare
Fred Estaire

until its up

dont. now stop. stop counting the sky is so beautiful so purple
Maggie loves Jesus and God
her daughter
was no accident when it rained

blood from a sky full of oil for an endless war

and everyone loves mother

Some reality that I followed a breadcrumb of golden nuggets

playing with your buttons on your proof to support the truth
when all they got was soundbites
of a mislead millennial youth
another blank check for telling the truth
to a bunch of blind numbers

in a bank full of micro-dots
for a man named Ashcroft and evil
at least Im hard not soft like you
who sold out for bills
and sold pills to exchange for a coup
Sackler …you mother — fracked

Hey I hope they cracked you too….New world order

I love NYC

If only she could have told the world
If only they knew
If only they knew
If only they knew

Maybe Joe could do something to
to save us from jumping into the blue the blue the blue ocean.
but maybe its too late
Maybe it was fate they stopped rushing into the battlefield

just walked over our dreams
because they were predisposed to deferral

like this infernal world
might someday be food
instead of me and you be swallowed by Jupiter too
spit out like these words, rude.
so that for once, liberty and just nice people

had already won not some kind of kid armed with God
a bible and hate in his sole
a burning house between today and tomorrow

and a sky full of nothing ready to disarm you
an army of successions with no excuse to
harm you

a false flag waving for a forward facing soldier
while Im getting too old
to feel the charm of being brave
of this abuse…. kneeling to repent to a disconnected choir

of the better dreams, the higher chords of chaos
the reason I should have never used my power
hoping I could resurrect the ghosts from these towers

a copy-cat version of me, my alter ego
my unknown alternative reality — my blind spot
my enemy

my second chance against your zeroes
I was destined to be a superhero…
even though I was split apart, split in half
even though, being a super hero
meant being insane in a crazy world full of
paranoid skitzos….

meant being split down the center
like a fiat economy for an empty shopping mall

a broken mountain to slaughter your foundations
like a broken pyramid scheme dream
like an evil program set to destroy us all

maybe being broken was the answer
to a broken machine and an endless static wall
when the windows break
and you see the sunflower in the shadows of a dusty sunshine
divine, miracles on display in the conspiracy theater
of unstoppable unbelievable imaginations

or better yet instead of divided we were living in

these divined times — although I suppose— — I must have

made you lose your mind, well there it goes, dam.

  Edge of an Empire

I tried to turn my waking nightmare into a story
Into a sleeping night affair bright blue beam
I dreamed it forever and it was beautiful
I like to fly to the moon when I feel sad
Im the bad witch but at least Im still free
im the best you never had

Her heart set on pyre to be observed by the crowd
Her voice only a whisper, not a song
Can’t discern right from wrong anymore
just a haunted story that became a crime

She can no longer discern herself from him
wants to become somebody like william moore
and everyone is acting so obscure
Seems to ignore how she sees her world.

burning, on fire
a burning empire

with more written incantations — Rome
she hopes for an orator — to canonize her hopes
The world she feared — now *nightmare she engineered*
She wants to breathe life into the past
In a future that repeats her faults endlessly

She wants access to the Gateway time machine
signs contract with machine

And the witch doctor is the only one
with the cure she no longer remembers
but here she is believing in a God
in the washed-out horizon of a degeneration

sacrificing all she loves for one stupid high
when all directions point to a lie
her mind is depressed, her soul in flight
no longer portrayed as a betrayal of the Good life

more as a victim of a world consumed
by its own tale unending
the beast within she cant seem to destroy
when perfection was the goal, to stop pretending

how did you lose the will to experience joy
when seeing him smile, crushed under tears of a child
aiming all their hypocritical devotions
as they knowingly poison the ocean

science proves to be emotionless

to the small-minded fathers without daughters
of mass media borderline machinations
to fall into order for a color blind corporation
as they operate on our lovers, and remind us

we’re still citizens of the paper diocese

*they* will turn our sisters into mothers
and *they* destroyed every poem you never read
as the fire is lit, as I stand here before you always
and Im burning watching the rain

falling free for a revolution, the only way
For a resistance becoming a majority
for a world that vanished In the blinking light
Wished back into existence forever walking in it

Bright that appeared yearning that you would see
that I tried to prove once that you feared from me
that they tried to engineer but it always
happened to come upon you when you least expected

Thing that seemed to fade, forgotten
are all fruits just born of the tree to be rotten?
when you could see imagine your imagining
a world misunderstood, someday

you will chase your truth’s passions
one day this earth will be nothing but a heaven
you will always be, trending with the fashions
you will always carry the kernel of truth

chosen arent ones, look up to the rays
the new earth was created for who
would defend me against those who would set me
on the pyre, or burn me like an evil vision

exile me to a prison where even my stolen words
would become a revival and revolution

America, shining land, dirty city -Golden
*dream within my God-less hands*
creation of a nation-less many
**border-less and divine, inspired and eternal**

I would never trade one thousand dollars
for an infernal empire of chains unhappy
to finally released a vision that resides in a prism
for the 1 percent prison of reality.

   The Guest

Came thunderous light and a million diamond-like eyes
Lucy rebelled, and Man decried, oh their kinghood was defied
while their maidens no longer could be deified

*Im going to transform this beast into a pretty unicorn*
*The pyramid schemes into a thousand mountains*
*The squares and cages into fountains rivers and streams*
*Your fallen foundations into remembered dreams*
*Into my future Golden City, into beauty and choice*
*Ye Godless Heathens of future dystopia redeemed *
*we all heard the voices, we all chose to listen*
*we all made the choice to believe and some to be*
*and some to leave it all to the rest, and I chose*

 

An Abstract Poem

what if we could turn all those misanthropists and psychologists into philanthropists and typologist on thoughts often ignored by apologists and agnostics to walk between the sidewalks touching cracks breaking mothers back on a fact that the hypothesis was a failed prognosis and that all swans are in fact black they were soaked in the oil of a blind heart attack.

what if we could engage a phenomenon of forgotten fury into the fire of the 21st century throw ourselves before the colonialists and be slaughtered like pigs to feed the Vikings who crossed the icy mountain to turn our seas in blood fountains.

we watch each other fumigate under a gasoline-soaked horizon, selling our short-lived bodies to be tenants to customer service pipelines T-Mobile to be mobile and Verizon just a visor to make sure there is light left to be let in…

and nod in despair as all the strings are pulled out from the fiber of our universe

then dream in cursive that this world wasnt cursed

that we weren’t born in reverse to a land that forget the purpose of trees

where flowers once sang and telephones rang, but now are the ethos of meteors that reign

     Yellow Ponies

I’ll let you introduce yourself
before the echoes of your past mistakes
haunt me with false embraces
to a future that no longer exists
for the doomed and fragile
for the shattered angels
go to the light, go go on child
feel the wild nights
feel alive once more
walk out those shuttered doors
and dance freely on the floor
no longer theirs to control
oh ghostly princess in the corridor
I feel the pain inside your soul
addicted to bad advice and mind control
mindlessly, we are connected in this way
the heroin is our enemy
and holy God is the remedy
to a life of tragic parody
of madness, darkness, and disease
her poison lips kiss the bruised
she is ready to take a leap of faith
and embrace more than this abuse
she will find her wings never were torn
a Magdalene reborn
the others maybe mourning
the lies they told themselves all along
whether righteous or ill
she will ride the phantom unicorn
into the next horizon

 

smokestacks and heart attacks

I used to play you on repeat until your voice faded into nothing
I used to believe in something

I purged the monsters from my soul
into this angry ocean, I lost all control

I admit, some of it felt like I was being lifted
from the pressure of this residence
some kind of archaic defiance — would not out its sight
like a firefly this light would flicker in the night time sky

I resisted the urge to fly away
instead I learned to weep with our mother
as the rain to water the gardens of history

  Episodic Epiphanies

I keep climbing these hills
Given ideas, hopeful pills and Im full of ambition
those magical conjurations of yours
it all came to rupture and ruin
as those claws they churned through me
to drive me insane again, those terrible temptations
a sinister exhibition

And so, you were taken
A ripe fruit with brightness integral to thee
A frame to be adorned, adored and loved eternally
A picture to be scorned, like an enemy

But restless was the wind
that sailed straight off the edge of the sea
but what did they see
as they railed

against your cardinal carriage
They admired your glistening tears
As you sung your throat against all disparage
Your song became a desert — a destitute
land lackluster of ocean

thoughtless dream, shimmering sparks
you rose in wings and glory of praise
a dancer in the dark, a hero of an arc
of stolen emotions

But alas, you were a mere fomentation
Mere speculation, to exist
the demon of malaise — resisting them
trapped behind a pastel blue sky
narrating your stories
to the ghosts in the bedroom mirrors
and your “revolutions” mere lullabies
to no one but an apparition’s alibi
and they say that our memories lied.

they named you after all it would be
and a mother pregnant with the sun
shining in her satin robe, forever you would be
with topaz dreams and dreams I’d hoped
were ever-good and clean like evergreen

The masterpiece of the universe
ascending that magic stairway to then stare
eternally across at earth’s Grand Display
with angels and demons dancing — like ray beams
a play on beholder’s eyes

Yes they let us every so often just once ascend
the amazing spectacle of all that is entirely
all that is and ever will be — a bright dream

so why, was she so center-fold
what a beauty she was to behold
in a place so cold, so cold
so why were they in blind-fold and in-line

the world in all its imaginary glory
would man’s nature allow a new story?
the swallowing of the moon with piety
and so you could swing on titan ships
and confess the magic of Lazarus
to return after we die

with every miracle we’ve sown?
with every magic tree we’ve outgrown?

I will still believe in miracles; I will still go on

even after the last pitch is thrown
and the autumn dust has settled
and dusk has set, and we all forget
I will be known, I will go on
For your sake, little joy, and for mine
and for all those like us who

were devoured by the raging beasts of Saturn
In these mortal cages these looking glass boxes
for a new age against a simple horizon
determined not by the ones turning the pages
of every chapter but the ones screaming rapture
at the blood rain pouring from the sky
just so you can know it was not they nor I

 it was not me
No I am not the one living a lie
It was your affliction, your lunacy
your so called madness this curse
you called the split-mind disease

that was the gift that set me free
that you said was a curse
so if hearing the chattering voices
in the raindrops against the roof is proof
enough
than let it be known

Let me live on in this magic world
please, let me spin

in the clouds alone — of machinated
mechanical realities

to create better paths forward to destiny

Fists full of fire

The world is a terrible place although somehow some of us
are still alive, but the ground shakes
wherever we walk, and our hearts
break when we hear our children
Talking of a future
that is no longer bright for them

The world is a dark abysmal place
I am never-more to gaze upon that milk white plate in the sky
that lunatic mirror’s face, for God’s fist of fire and flame
Threw our moon off of her frame
and now we throw rocks at glass houses
our fathers full of shame

And all that gave my name such fame
they say the fittest were to blame
for they survived again and again through
the elite industrial wiring of a perfect

‘civilization’ given way to the wry bittersweet
destiny, the casualty of a generation
that loved the tears that reigned from Heaven

when she cried a million thunderous bolts
crashing from a blackened sky
Empire! Lie! Decry the fallen
and so a child was born

A child born with a blank slate
but was secretly Charles Darwin
Charles Darwin’s reincarnation
faced with humanity’s terrible fate
not an evil-changeling born to be rotten
without the feudalistic force of abortion
born to be an abomination
not succumbing to the gene editing
Nor a deletion

the murder of a bright star we play with fire and fate

from the hammer of Thor
the world shook into pieces

we blossomed up through the cracked pavement
where they stole our paradise, more tragedy than ironic
put parking lots in place of our cities, forgotten
but we were not the children of the imperfect
zero’s the ones who were our heroes
the ones who rose up from the shadows the past
and made contributions to our national story

children of an already broken foundation

I am Charles Darwin — -I have survived all this time
I am Charles Darwin, father of Eugene
I studied all the best survivors of our time
Hitler shot himself in the head and is dead
a lot of perfect people have committed perfect crimes

 a criminal, criminal white lie
I am I am Charles Darwin and I was born this way
in an Asylum for people who do not match up pieces
I do not rhyme my world with the world before
I believe in reincarnation, and my mother was a whore
for a world made for Eugenicists
to use tools of chemistry
against individualists and to attack
my pacifism — — my creativity

I sleep in a white room to stare up at a false sky
and dream of the world that became a lie
before I was dead inside
and just a demon of the question
a ghost in your head for asking why

a punishment for washing the world in red.
I was totally wrong, wasn’t I?
Because you are not me, Trump
is full of shit…I'm the ground you walk on
while the earth moves in circles around the sun
discreetly you dance on my grave
The brave new world is no longer brave
only selective: border-less unless you are rich
or a borderline reporter

Behaving as if you could perform any
better than this dancing with the dead
like Charles Darwin reborn
or everyone happy when Bush
choked on a pretzel, how many wishing when
he would choke again and
that it was more permanent — -like an endless war

for nothing but evil mire
or a hurricane to take out the worst
they ask us who is to press the red button
then they say, you should press it first

or an endless joke just to watch the
fall of civilization
countries sinking beneath the oceans
washing the world in red for more wars
the same nameless ghost empire
rising up in smoke and burning
in the fire… the same ashes of evil
the same dust upon her face
the moon no longer so crazy
for things she saw from outside space.

 Quick-Sandcastles

I know the definition of madness
its the opposite of sadness
but means the same thing — a badass
when alone in all your badness
radical, being magic in the hospital
staring at the halls from your chair, peeling the paint
off the walls as the led peels off in waterfalls
this is the new word tragic
for special kids like us

who isn’t a saint but a wild child
in a millennial world going nowhere
in a castle without a king
and a king without a throne
and a queen living in a castle all alone
and the castle is made of quicksand
as the sand falls quickly through
the hourglass as it fell
from the watchman’s hand?

as I wilt here in my thorny sandcastle
watching the world soaking up a new dawn
the snowflakes that melt across
old-man winter’s lawn
Spring’s eternal villain, the nemesis
I wish there was a door I could climb through
to that other other-time away from all the
bedrooms, broomsticks, and bad excuses
bad sex, boredom, abusive voices and a spell

I put on trump and all his ex’s and accusers
a freak, the nexus and Marilyn Manson (users)
whatever — I was trinity
before the matrix became a movie

I know the madness of insanity
they diagnosed me with it using
a scary sheet of paper and a wrist band
a bottle of pills, a book of bills
and a band of cash for thrills

that led to my torment and
eventual crucifixion
For Canadians

I no longer will trust the results of an election

My father was a coward
at least I have the courage to admit this
I know the definition of a tyrant
I hope that you realize that
staring into the barrel of a gun
ignorance is bliss, but evil isn’t fun.

I was blackmailed by the demons
of a counter-fit label — disabled by disorder
something that meant something else
and of course the new world order

doctor says I talk in circles
she says you’re spinning wheels in place
I pay her no mind, I love to watch sitcoms
people like them talk to windows
like to memorize license plates

surely I could be a bit precious
a bit grandiose in my episodes of derision
only because I was born to a world
of fucking morons and I had ideas
I had a vision.

Try to imagine that I had never left you
Never left at all even if you forgot
and the person I was I no longer am
or I always was but never mind damn

that my voice was always here
like the song wonderland by oasis
or never go chasing waterfalls
or maybe I had too much fun
fighting with my nemesis

Maybe I just like the feeling
of wrestling with the sky
when its all falling apart around me
and I feel like telling you the truth

its a lie

she likes to cry inside
she likes to play the piano and dance
she used to bake bread for Leonardo da vinci
in a past life

in fact they had a brief romance

I know the difference
I know the definition.

When I see him smile
when I fall to pieces because I remember losing him before
and then I am visited by the ghost of
sir william thomas moore
who was traumatized fighting during the Great War
and also had night terrors

when he held my hand and didn’t want to let go
when he reached out to the light
From the darkest of shadows
and I said I love you though

these fucking diseases

I know the difference whether
I got the disease and got better
I took off the cast, the weather
was so much better
then

I took the medicine
I put the needle in my arm
I learned to live without and screamed
sinfully and sleepless
but then I woke up from endless dreams
and left the haunted mansion

I put my hands in yours
You put mine under the bright lasers
you stabbed me in the chest
I resurrected after midnight
a warrior

I wake up at 3am
I cant sleep, I hold the pillow tight
I have died three times
I made a terrible wish once before

that we would be alright and that I would
live forever
that I would be immortal and that
the evil scientists who played
my game
that they would be written
in that book of blame
because I have no shame
however, some things cannot be forgiven.

For you would have the world forever
For I am so very clever
For you will live forever but they
They that spill the blood that dreams
Of embers in September
By the wish of a divine order
In the age of love and St. Valentine
a curse to those who would
Use the bane of Holly wood screens
and direct their will to break
a selfless soul to wake up and be free

You cant give me madness
you cant take it away
You cant take away my madness
Because my madness is what you call
conspiracy
for every time I speak my truth
they send the white coats in

to shake me down
to strap me in and shock me
so that I am no longer
able to remember

none of which was up to you
and that is my decree
embers in September
embers of splendor
embers in September
— -she could be your son or your daughter
— -chipped
— -cracked
— -made in China
— -broken
— -ready for slaughter

I am not crazy unless to have a heart
is some form of madness or insanity
and if my love is to be crazy
than I would have rather died a million times
madly loving in one second than
dying infinitely to have experience
all of everything yet to have never known
to have never been able to see
not not have heard nor witnessed this ability
nor have the reason to express a
kind of eternal beauty that power

 

 

 

Graphis

Hopeful the hours we knelt and prayed
to ivory towers, conquered nor raised the
harmonic eons bidding occult deliverance
dissimilar, a harp to be the harbinger
princess, caste and torn — reformed to
hostage to a world dominated
by a thrice born, incarnated
incantation, millennium millennial

I am

The serpent spills ashore an ocean
did he spit her out for lack, emotions?
or was it that her heart was pure
or maybe too black or sour to enjoy
For monsters love the taste of blood
the bittersweet love they spoil
and so, she was too cold for him
and conquered the nightmare Baal

She said she liked me better
when I was insane, and I had red hair
today Im going to color my hair red
declare the world my mind is dead!
As it goes inward into a cave

to defeat the black mannequin
and I, Joan, the brave heir
who already won
somehow
am devoured by a spaceship’s missile
aimed at the moon, the sun’s glare
as they stare stare stare at machine
and I am stuck in this matrix
feeling so fucking alone again.

Take this, take this Andrographis
and some vervain for the twin powers
for the two towers of the 21st century
Pray to Basil if you’re able
Saint Abilify prescription labels…
Backwards beam waking dream
fabled horary tropes and telescopes
until he starts to scream,
until he starts to scream.

Like a conspiracy

this theater of our innocent
machinated schemes
where anything is possible

and nothing is what it seemed
and wasn’t
what it fucking seemed to be…
what it once seemed to mean…

 

 Balthazar

 

Making beautiful wishes
Like a world full of kisses
And having bizarre visions
of Kings of old and sages
of rewriting the end

Destiny is self-chosen
For histories to mend
a world that men
Pretend they could control

I have seen a future world frozen
souls of love and life
Who are we to know?
in this silent war between light
of willing mind’s and metaphors

of sensing the beyond time
a silly pond or ocean sublime
that captures all emotions
an eye that was trapped
by electric devotions
The evil watcher
the false light of perdition
our arrogant conviction

There is no easy way out
from the static impulse of sin

And it is in making sense
souls that he is trying to free
they were graceful
so obedient
they were heavenly
do we know God
do we know His truth?

for we are meant to be free
can we discern a true prophet
I don’t know if I can, you?
starry night
starry mystery
Giant beings made of Light
and the man who
held the key…

Gods love forever beyond frequency
I believe our true nature is not of obedience
but of resistance to authority
not of submission to one force
But of ultimate co-operation
a revolution of all, divorced of corruption
a resistance of the many
a peaceful existence
Free and all we have to do is be.

 

 

Exploring Harmonia

would even he liken us to himself
for like him- was there no other
dear Pagans, Christians….
atheists and theists
Choose love for one another
not the lesser of two choices
for the scales were balanced
by the harmony of our greatest
Be righteous
not right to a singular
forbidden prophecy
clue…

turn off the television
and gape in wonder

at her from the immortal Hera of the tests
I don't want you to fear me nor
do I want you to ask for Moore’
my soldier fought a Great War
and he knows the path though simple trees
was not easy to hate
Like turning a God of Spring
Into the God of snow after
what you dont know yet how far wed come
for it to be too late…for them to be set free

time on the other world is familiar but different
and thus she must tell you something
pertaining to human achievements
earth, egos and the sum of all imaginations
existences ad infinitum all the known planets

In the solar system
it is about Jupiter, Pluto, and Mercury
Selfish Gravity and not
Atom….and its an idea that Plato
described, when it was an idea that somehow survived…
how would this mean anything
to be prescribed another version the lesser of two
of anything
if both could cause the loss of life …
this lesson of our choices
this is Athena’s ultimatum and truth

and, the reason for our voices

this comet coming and the crimes of men of the 21st
century, who rode an angelic horse between the skies
and whose name means memory of light after life
times, for she leads with no impunity
but only blessed u with immunity from
things that you do not seek…seek salvation in
Logos is the logic of time
Gravity was the anti-Solipsis of God sublime
though gravity is weak he is not broken
and though gravity is soft he has not spoken
his promise was to observe us
a certain endless plan and too far a plane
one they will surely abandon
if only could they feel pain

after their false icons
the stranger may ask as he analyzed me
what is the main answer, why a nullified answer
if you do not release her significance
there will be no such thing again
and you shall be shamed by your ignorance
Zeus came from a temple below the sea
of Thames it has to do with the book of names
and in ponderous seeking
a star that is dark like me and weak
for you are followers of a dark prophecy
so why are they culling and herding the pastures
for slaughter, why are they burning the sky
and ruining the seas of water stealing goats from
across the ocean, making sheep into

cloak-skin for soldiers to fight wars that
will one day be at all of our doors
Sophia has filled you with joy and laughter
and yet to a Medusa mirror they stare
that would curse her only daughter
to die?

And what have you done where
And ascended from many stars I sent to you
to thee, from the fields of Elysium
for humans begged for a cure to Meiosis
and I gifted that to them but just a few
would have hid it from the masses

repent not to the monument but to
in it take refuge from
Eros who loved the wind God
of a Golden knight and once upon a time
there was a Goddess of Euphoria and Bliss
Try man, look it up to you the fallen
She no longer exists

even men who moved mountains even ten
giants who could have condemned
poisoned by the same creatures that
were sprung once in a fountain called Youth

they sent a ship to out to sea
with the young daughter of Hippolyta
tied to the mast but her own eternal might

by the Gods of thunder once a titan now eternity
form a world under us came once infernal now free
a woman with a beautiful name Epiphany
that only the bright star Venus could see

a secret story about how we defeated a beast
and how Neo saved Trinity
and the endless journey
for a secret ship with a magic sail…
and the one i cant tell about Gail and
the dark night just to bow down
to a man that was made king
not to honor the light…sinning..
i worship the Goddess of wisdom
hope truth and life my Sophia
we all come from Maat.

 

 

 

Aura

in a day before the pages were
edict and known
ancient apes and agape and Eve and Adam

Once upon a time sublime and the truth was mine

before the song of songs and Solomon’s Sodom
we were counting the stars in the constellations back when it was ok, before Constantinople, the noble tribes, Noah, a boy called Yahweh

Hercules and many after
between the spaces in the darkness
knowing what it means to be
a witness to the worst that is yet
to come to change into a miracle of beauty

Once, in a time when there was time
up in the sky, there, a star appeared
like something that would change
the days and hours of our lives
The star was not a spaceship but a metiorite
and many more of them came
In the decade of Aphrodite

But he believed it would happen soon
when his sister would finally be able
to sleep…in almost heaven…

we never had wings like Enoch’s angels
and there is no justice on earth
until you remove the curse of backward birth
Like a pyramid scheme, a backwards beam
Or a good dream read in reverse

there was a lot more to Egypt

than a stairway to Elysium and there was
a lot more to Cleopatra than the sums of gold
they said that her heart was pure venom

so that when you sent her sister
out into the sea to die and when
You sent your viking ships into Brazil
and took a princess from her throne
one day she would know
her Destiny was to conquer Rome
She cursed this humanity
to be cosmically bound and tied
Just like she had been

to cause your people confused by a web of lies
and the word to remove the curse is
Ayadeva sacrifice to no one
But God above, I am one earth sol and water
with the wisdom of many Bright daughters
I will win this to the ages of an Eon

The star’s name was Sirius
something about polaris, osiris and a Nebulu
seriously, solaris…and the other kingdom
Maybe I am not worthy to know
the true identity of a prophet

But I hear the whispers of my ancestors
from the songs of Janis Joplin
and from a Saturnalia forgotten
a mind that turned rotten
for a wisdom that got me rejected
and another has elected, some through hate

a false happiness and bliss for their estate
an epiphany that meant she could learn
from Atreyu and a home that lost all meaning
from houses and cities burned
by vikings and the mad men of Empires
turned to abalone

that the water would become the sun
and the fire would become songs
and the truth would sting like vipers
and secrets of Medea
would be known to only a few…
innocent of their wrongs..

and all the world would be washed in a flood
of their own making, until the one war was won.

and if it was, it will be to build a bridge destined for 1473
once they had chosen to do all of the right things
and suddenly the truth would stop hurting
so faith no longer seemed like madness
the divine manifestation, springs of light
of Akasha and the brave warrior who never died
the great Goddess of the Oasis
free Frida friday me

with her many alibis…eternal authors of your fate
written across the endless trilogies of epic poetic Hecate
stories of the endless eons and dialogues of matyrs and
of all the crazy things that came before men were followers of men
and all the people that were called crazy for love of him

before we prescribed so many substitutions for advice
this is the 2nd Eon a second star that we have never seen before
and this one comes from the third world
the fifth earth.We have lived this life twice….or maybe 4 times
it makes sense though if you think mic drop

This time there is a spaceship….thats the issue
because it has something to do with me
Makes sense because I think….

Epiphany

I wish endless epiphanies

for the Matrix of love to be free and escape the ward they put trinity in
seperate a God of love
From a rule of hate and take away my sin

the enemy of pleasure

thank you for rescuing me from embers
me from oblivion and I thank the eternal
sun God for a life so beautiful…
and I wish for a solution

to prophecies and absolution
to a peace of equal measure
serenity and revolution’s finality

Elysium New Earth Gemmia liberty

30

 

 

Trump

I was born in a prison full of thorns
though the roses that were touched by the dew
reminded me of something angelic stirring
in the life of spring

when I was eight, I would wake up early
almost every day after it rained
to watch the roses glisten in the sun
as the sun rose up from the sides of the hill

I had conversations with the sun
and when I spoke to him, he’d brush me
with the wind and sometimes the sky
and the tree and sometimes my hair
and I was dancing around the stone
I was completely alone
I walked toward the magic chair
and when I returned a magic
coin was there

and then there was
the path of cobbled brick
where the water would wash down

From the rain, I found a pretty rock
it was white like satin and
was striped with rainbows
it just appeared like everything else
In that strange little world

a hidden town within the city
all those things have left me
the stone, the coin, the angel penny
the millions of people who believed

in liberty

I was born in a prison full of thorns
and I was born with a key
he smells the flowers in his prison
and from our pain he draws his poison
maybe we are not meant to suffer
at all, maybe we are meant to begin again
and not become victims of

the delusions of one evil man
no matter how tall he may be
or if his face is bright as the moon
no matter how he exerts his power
Like a tower full of golden spoons
no matter he existed at all

the key is to realize the vision
the vision was that there would be no prison
there would be no wall
if we could agree on anything that would unite
us all.

no one wants to be born
In a prison full of thorns

 

 

Colors bright of soul

she was unable to sleep anymore
Once she opened that immaculate door
to the temple of more

and to sin, no more

This is my Temple and you are just a visitor
Who was not welcomed in
And it is time for the world to see

and to free,
Your beautifying truth within
that sin was just delusion of pride

and to thee,
and oh what man had died
in the ocean of elohim to be seen
a star inside a clam shell
to be claimed

for all the souls unclean

They wanted her to go to sleep in their dominion
But her soul was resolved toward the ray of love
They tempted her mind was derisive lies
But the light which emanated from above
He said her skin was thick that of a dragon’s
But no her soul was from heaven and dagmos.

Full of sorrow, selfish leaders and kings cursed at Apollo
Full of vitriol, they made bridges of no tomorrow
Made people into vespers of mad projects
and pointless machines.

But the daughters of Eve

She tamed the cherubim and taught it to rise
She was friend of Enoch, brave and God the wise
But she did not want to marry to a prophecy
She wandered off to create herself a better story

They waged a war with Pyramid-like Ships
In times before man Atlantis and arch bishops

a machinated eclipse
her revenge was the thread Eros used in his bow
To pierce the shield of enemies of peace
And free’d Apollo from the houses of pain

the rest they wanted no one to know
so they called her insane

but she remembered the dove
but then she turned madness into love
and Diana Sophia into magical rain
for just one flower, not two powers
one and the same…

again and again they were agape
with the girl was able to make water
from grapes…then call it divine
write poetry about Socrates
mystery from divine

to somehow fight gravity
and to see beyond the graph timelines
she came from another place
that she cannot disclose

pretend to be a man like Joan of arc
and then drink wine celebrate her fate
after being murdered by kings
only to inherit their princes
and father’s estate…only to leave
Once more, for a better adventure
as the world was born
on a beach in the sand with the fingers
of manna, of Hannah, of her hands

of her eternal man.

daughters of eve daughter of angels
children of hope children of Gadsden..

there is no devil
But that which dwell’d in the
stupid consternation
of an oppressive ruler
of an order or nation….

50

Respond

A Wandering Cannon *

her voice was too soft, lullabies like feathers from a dove
her friendships all got lost in between the heathers
a million summer rains remembered her
her song was the sound of dreams and dreamers sang
with her music ancient fair beings came alive
ringing chimes for a new year of peace and became
free from pain or shame, from shared nightmares

again

for when the mockingbird did tune the golden chord
a pretty angel ballerina dancing in forests an unheard flute
the wind brushed his sand-swept world in sorrows
as the glistening sky did glow with lust for life
for the children of love to take flight to the sky
free here-after from all they would not know
only summerland summlerland a world without snow
warriors to fight roam and rome, warriors to right

human

the roads all led us home, where all of us reflect
as mirrors of each other as pieces of our brothers
you were my sister, my daughter, my brother, my father
where we all meet again, in the land of heroes
Tir Nan Oh Tir Nan Oh though the path is crooked and
narrow, its made of promises from a pretty red sparrow
not all warriors fight with sword and shield
many with the golden pen danced in the strawberry field

like Sophia, my mother, and the sun my only son
and brave Mona who’d shone forth for each earth’s revolution
Lulabelle my sweet child with powers from the moon
who made her believe in more than light, that light was more
than simply something she could move through the door
But light was everywhere, not something needing proven
That everything around her was radiant in love

at will, unlike a pill to keep the sounds at bay
Love was more powerful but too proud to say it
the truth more magical than a monument
Easier to adore than the sweetest moment

when a soul trapped by echos could at last

feel how it really felt to be loved
like the sea and you were the boat and sail
the sailor who I died for in the twentieth century
carrying me across the shores of elysium
and trinity, how the stars are just freckles
on your skin, and the only sin
Is not to believe in the meaning
of our salvation.

This new arch is sailing across time
across this milky way sublime
he will show us where
Its in our hearts, our ears and minds
Like Jupiter’s history, Enoch
God, and man kind….hidden somewhere
some of us may never be able to find.

 

        Mahadeva

After the world went into reverie, Maya found herself floating above the sea
the clouds gave way to an immaculate sun, shining on her friend
the cardinal of paradise, who sang her lullabies to forget

mocking riddles of horrible laughter and everyone
Her world was a wild ocean of colors, brightness split the sky and broke her mind with blameless possibilities

Heaven was more than a mere mother’s zeal
or brothers ideal dream
she held Hecate’s key up to the stars
rebirth eternal paradise

everything was here she could feel
even the illusions were real, destined to flight
She collected the stars that fell from the sky, no longer induced

by a lie that kept us divided

moving forwards onward toward
and through her mouth spoke
truths secret spell, love is the reason I returned to a world that had been burned without a reason

why not do like we had done so long ago
in such a wicked world
Made us worship Mars instead and war

rise on the wings of our better angels to Father’s open door following the path past the stable to through the trees by the moor

beyond the gates of wildflowers and rose
Greeted by the man in robes they called Moses where the seas of hysteria
would part for me

and an unlikely warrior to the hero we were made
from and to trust
and at last

they were free

 

The Bravery

There is no one holy there at the door
just flickering lights going nowhere
a bunch of airplanes that were stars
that were explosions that are everything

Now and Again they pretend to comment
when I pray to a fallen monument
I don’t know what to do; as they continue to worship the water; I sit here and I wonder if it’s holy anymore. Following galaxies in circulation

those complex conspiracies like who rules the nation?
Today all the colors run

No more broken promises a head full of fire; I raise my fists
burn the flag for the ministry the pacifists are no longer passive

to this.

we became the hurricanes that took you down from up high
I died to this on Valentine’s Day

we were the crazies at the edge of the 21st century
with a bedroom full of knives

and a center through which we were out of order

so nervous on our borderlines.

Lights alert with laser sharp idealism putting words into dysfunction
like an earthquake ripping open the world’s foundation
I pray to these fallen statues of forever I don’t know what to do;
as they continue to worship the water;

I sit here and I want it back
I wonder if it’s holy anymore.
They run against a black background a naked culture for conditioning

terrible ; ugly ; vulnerable

within a soundless display disruptive and unstable; uprising
apostatized and rhetorical machinations unified through a major key.
I drifted; spiraling and conspiring
against the conspirators of the wiring
imagining creation- as my body began morphing again. I entered the shallow waters and took over the hologram

and took over the hologram freeing the son of Sam.

He’s on heavy chronic, re-writing their wrongs with forgotten songs
for their armies; his loyalties
matriculated and loaded with righteous religiosity.

She breathes life through entropy in this phototropic embassy
full of such negative space

She fabricated; diagrams of his kind of reality; worshiping the whispers
laying their forgotten bodies. Laying down as he raised the dead
from her miserable frown
their wings so broken; they were imaginary and my words so infinite and majestic
now an impossible possibility.

What of it all now that you were
in another black box simulation too unrealistic to recreate
just wishing less of this what was the point of being here
where was it that I was before echoing some kind of reminder

of all wanted to be
they keep following us, amazed
meanwhile tables were turning on

you and me

for we were the ones who braved it all
for the century before the fall

The bravery

 

Spinning the Hours Away

like Dead Dreaming Flowers
Peace was an ideology on a turn table
like freedom in the rain, Beatles, and naked

hippies and Kurt Cobain sang
who rode their mustangs into starlight
without fear; and proffered to
turn Their Pain into a God into
a Gothic Punk Queer
and who died Bleach at midnight
Cracked by lightning on a crystalline sphere

Pharma handed us bottles of meds for our

diseased heads and held our hands on beds
behavioral issues were stitched at the seams
we were prescribed painkillers and acid from the

sky while Lucifer flashed his beautiful smile,

courage between satanic
depositions and an RX queen we were sold out to the endless war machine.

Watching the lustfully prostituted lullabies
full of music and pain
somber melodies of madness
lingering divination…. could we Imagine
Ever again?

Trees are skeletons of the past
ghosts are computer screens
warehouses are for the bones
of our hopeless machines
You were an explosion
before the explosion
You were a synapse between two worlds
connected by emotion

You were a God
That ran the network cables
You commercialized the city
with marvelous fables
But you got tired of routine
and patterns in the future
Chaos was all around you
and you knew all to know the truth

But when masterful artists
collapsed between the singular horizon
and actresses in other dimensions
protested Verizon at dinner parties and
the world seemed strange, seemed to change
things changed
and something became
clear

death is as close as breathing
tragic how they fear us
if only they would hear us

 

Temperance

I will take it all back when I rule this earth

with nothing only my powers of rage to turn
pages from unwritten to known

it all began when we were thrown

into the cages mercilessly to fight wars

with lions for the humor of beasts

an empire on a throne made of disaster

lying to everyone about the haters of ascension

the warrior who pretended to mean something.

I never read but the blue tall windows arch

and high the white lady torn

Delusional prophets

Reborn
Where am I now

to be described in a book to rewrite

More than the chemical gold that you
just fused into me
hold onto each moment you are blessed
you are to be able to see
I wonder if when they wake up
and see the display
will they see the way that they were meant to be
or was the vision all the same
a crime to people who are secretly like me

 

Maybe Moonbeams

Maybe Luna really is sublime
I tossed a coin under the new moon
and a million dreams of mine came true
to a magical bell-tune

Perhaps there is an arch from here to there
after all, how else can I explain
this shaking laughter in my head
turning into storms and hurricanes?

wish I could cross that mystical bridge
Made of moonbeams and stardust
to a world of happiness and sugarcane
of magic, mysteries, and love

perhaps the music never really dies
for how else to describe that melody
that forced the oceans from my eyes
and made love to more than electricity

Perhaps there is a time before us
when we were not so drowsy and asleep
for in endless halls of Maya

I can hear the sandman weep
the ghosts they grab at me as I spiral cross’ the stair
to anywhere, nowhere, and everywhere but here

Radiant is the fire within
burning endlessly endlessly endlessly so

The light it surrounds me here
the eternal flame of all I know

and the life giving tree
sunshine. shine. divine art. what are we?
Maybe we were more than shooting stars
across the galaxy
Maybe we were meant to findout
Find out my little moonbeam spark
follow your heart

shine. sunshine. shine.
your wings, your Destiny

~*to be free**~

 

i used to dream

I sang on the rooftops
because I remembered flying
I broke through the windows
and suddenly I was rising

i used to believe these projections
might be heard somewhere
like the humming of a hummingbird wing
or the fanning of fanfare

that what I created became my destiny
that I could alter the course of history
that I could save you like yellow butterflies
that I used to have wings of glory

I would lay in summer reverie
there were endless theaters all with hallways
leading in through the other one
and Seraphim who created worlds

out of magic and music and love

there was a list of names on a wall
and I made love to the fallen angel as he read mine
he said your father has written you off
Elysium will fall this time

I had visions of walking into the rivers
to collect salt that fell from the Heavens
that contained a long-gone essence
that gave humans immortal life

I dreamed that I was Mary
Mary because we were all Mary
I lit the candle on the tree, remembering my own
staring at the lamp post
the future reflecting the past

again and again (and some boy between worlds)

wailing wallflower sisters of light
mysterious house of abalone
a baby boy stolen at midnight
to be made a king after all

I remember I loved you though
you were at a distance
always in a crowd
you left a secret in a heart shaped locket
that fell into my hands
and then disappeared

they follow you everywhere you go
and I like a Rose
slowly wilt in the snow

(waiting for a possibility)

that I can love again
that I am worthy of love
even though I am responsible
for everything terrible
for loving you

the angel who fell
from Heaven to Hell
to create endless passageways
ne’re do we tell
these ghosts of machinations
these incantations
might draw a particular spell

to leave briefly the condemnation
of a doubting life I lived
to create imaginative art
like the young girl God had showed me
in a dream, for how could a child be in debt
for creating beautiful images
so, she waits, waits for the time
when the world becomes paradise
sublime — I owe her a debt
this I won't forget
her debt is that she is a bright star
In the making

(She had borrowed too many crayons
to color the world more beautiful)
The teacher said she was not allowed
To color any more until someone saw
Her works that she wanted to share
And I saw them
and I had never seen such master creations
They inspired me, bright lines
She could trace the shape of every earth-animal
and human

can we make this world better?
For the earth she will be
undertaking

God the art teacher he prepares his children
but no one should pay for using
The crayons of Heaven’s Angels
she can color this world
with her imagination

“You’re still in debt” the art teacher claimed
for whatever reason this was shown to me

Dear Great Artist in the other-side
Your art is perfect, made with pride
I see you longing not to be in spaces
But to have your own determination
perhaps you could be an Angel
and live to color the skies
An intermediate
Though I feel that people may need you
One day
I wish you the full power of God’s gift
do not feel guilty for your gift
Of Grace not be your downfall
Perhaps our flaws be similar
We were not prepared for the punishments
of a white-washed world full of politics and delusion
you, the artist, are the future
Therefore, your effort is our debt
Your masterwork is our teacher.
Blessed be
I wish you a future of stability, health wealth and happiness
To fulfill your imaginative desires
And to a higher purpose, destiny.

30

There is a Soul

Yes, as sure as the sun
There is a soul that cries out
from the tip of your tongue
there is one — my love
Like the feathered wings
Of a turtle dove

Yes, you have a soul
eternal and etheric
An aura of your making
Made by a loving creator
The author of your mirror
Your major character

Feel the embrace
a loving warmth of hands
learn to hear the whispers
From those from the lands
We have aged here too long
To be despairing in wait

You are all you do
You are all you create.
Just believe it's not too late
Just believe it’s not too late.

Courage defies logic
the empty spaces of time
be courageous and see
To be eternally divine
all worthy of love
all worthy of life
the journey from here to beyond
Is ripe with possibility

Author your better characters
For enduring the lasting
centuries.

Perhaps looking backwards
it seems as though the past is the future
let God and his angels lend you his wisdom
let humanity be your teacher.

Because we all could easily
Have every wish granted or filled
That is not why we’re here
It's not just suffering makes us ill

It's our will and our strength

Courage to be known
The fervent threads of understanding
A future we are sowing
To rise, to sing songs of pride

Your soul is a like a kite
Set into the wind on a beach
the shore is your awareness
Your legacy washing with the tides
Your legacy is more a message in a bottle
It is the pearl in the oyster shell

the natural effects
Of a lifetime on earth

And with that understanding
Will encounter rebirth.

He said, you’re an angel reborn
He said Get right with God

He said, come back home
I said Im flying

they will document my non apology
to empty theaters of laughter

They claim to seek new earth; I claim to see my earth with new eyes.

The belief in spiritual and supernatural forces is not something I merely embraced. It was a calling; a sort of falling into.

Lets burn the empire to the ground, lets let Goddess cry floods until we all drown. And like puppets rally to the mind control sound….

Lets kneel at the altar of the elite, let them pull the sandals off our feet
Lets repent as the drone noises fill our heads and cry to the rounds
Lets worship a man draped in white but full of red red red red/

lets follow the blind until we are all dumb muted and dead

dizzy clowns all in our brains

Red like the war we bled
Red like the unwritten words we read
Red like the memories of ancestors in our head

Goddess and God — the power less diluted

The mind a free spirited affirmation
I draw three hearts and fill notepads with solutions
And say An It Harm None bring health to their minds
Lucid dreams…the planet screams our creatures have powers
They are dying to the machine

Green

rebirth, fourth earth but what of the fifth final and platinum
revolution so blue it looks like the ocean instead
Solaris none of this exists without us saving the natural earth
from evil media and Mind pollution

Fake news, new shoes, fake President, Fake or free I guess we will choose.

Eventually when the sleep awaken
We will remember the natives under our new rubber highways
And the bones we plowed over for new generations of byways

They wear party affiliations but who is on the side of truth
The world being alive with life ripe possibilities and timeless peace|\who are the masters of discord or disease?

to the masses do we appease?

is this something to conquer by sheer might of complaint
can we comply with manufactured cures for the death cooked up in a lab?
Is it safe to continue to take a jab away at the days to live selfish as they turn

the roads electric, as they turn off our lights
Take away the ability to fight
Pin us against each other for petty reasons they cite

As they take away our rights Simulated possibilities turning to a one exit strategy
Turned toward the one probability labels of affliction

Addicted to masochistic labels
And big brother supervision

So little so small……………………………..men.

AI and a glitch, still we near zero-sum possibility
An Oblique oblivion
You have to save yourself from the FALL of ZEN what do u think oh men oh men of absolved situations? can you say that you were no better than

Perfect ascension. A Green World. A peaceful re turn. I learn to face the creatures in the attic
I learn that not all moments are permanent

If there is a ghoul with a sword
There is a man with a word
There is a woman who herds

Sheep to shepherd
An angel who remember her wings

and enoch when music was paradoxical in the wellsprings of another place
Elysium and Jupiter’s earth.

Some people can maintain a simple-minded life; can arrange the capitals in order and put all their pieces on display. I was not designed that way.

On the ocean beach, I was still nervous to draw a circle in the sand. I grew up Catholic, grew up with the 10 commandments.

What makes the pearl beautiful beyond the oyster shell? do we exist to persecute others to heaven or hell? Does a body contain the courage to change direction? Was Gaia ultimately a paradise that we have forgotten?

I craved the soft whisper, a feminine voice in the mist. I heard Arionrhod and dreamed of silver moon castles and secret books of cherubs and magical ships that sailed the starry sky. I dreamed of an everlasting mystical power — like teardrops in a perfume bottle — our souls prepared for the hours of our ends, beginnings, and summer.

She says I love you from between the echos. The darkness is just as alive as the light — we are the authors of other worlds, other universes our imaginations will ignite, to unite, under an umbrella of fairies in constant flight.

I had the dream that I had beautiful white feathered wings — and I realized they were meant to be there. That I am a falling angel. That I am falling into the ocean, that I will be saved by a painful devotion to the heart….

to stop falling apart.

I rhyme the depths of the sea
To follow a path beyond misery
To a grey valley of stones
But I feel so alone
They call up from the top of trees
Life life is a beautiful thing!
Life life is a beautiful thing!

Treasure this moment, let your voice sing

Be a being, to being beyond meaning…

The past is a mystery
From the colonial webs we had sown
A tragic history
For my bloodlines the girl was in love with someone

War had distanced us from the source of our spirits cry
We tore at each other, tore at ourselves
And fell into wishing wells to die
and then we awakened in another dawn, a new life
Still pondering the blood that we had forged against us
Awry awry! I miss the wings to fly!

She endured the big lie! But one day she saw a real consequence
a planet dressed in snowy white

And not a soul in sight.

the end, guess I came back to pretend It was alright
Destroying all the love and beauty in my life…..

I took the sword
I took charge to fight….the same sword

Clipped my wings in one night.
You can’t fight evil you can only force it so far back
Till the oceans are burning

and the seas are all black…but in the dusk
a husk of shell
The pearl returned
still innocent beyond the pits of hell
A dream gifted with one purpose

Endure them beyond the mocking bell….

oh well.

As Pure As a Church

He was as pure as a church
Unselfish as a clean cloth that wiped the table clean
A very calculated machine

As the days wore thin and grey
The cars all learned to turn the wrong way
All the time he turned right

Rightly so, the cables eventually slept
The winter-scored streets swept
While sister and brother wept in whispers

Things unsaid or unspoken began to transform
Became cataylists for an abnormal revolution
A sort of noise pollution creeping in the pipes of the walls

A sort of delicate discomfort that pinched at us
In our naked envy of all that wasn’t for us the debt climbed on
I washed the sky in a ball of crumpled notes
and forgotten socialization

We wore our masks, basking in the faceless glory
Of our magical golden century
The 21st century turned at doom
The Obelisk became the moon
and all our glories set toward the bloom

he could find the square
the demigod so pure
We could meet him there, and match the four
But you knew how to tear away the false identity

You were pure as a church
No one need worship the money that fell into hands
Because that had no value to you
Your world was written in a song

And your history knew you.

So they falter, kneel and pray
I repent on all the money I wasted
On a short-lived high and misery
to splinter a fractured reality.

I try to repair the itch in my brain
That tells me stop being so

Patiently insane

A patient cannot complain
For I am not a church type Christian
We smoked ours, Mary

Jane and blue-jean Dreams

Church became the antagonist
And dulled like grey patterns with no meaning
Being told by a man to behave

Sometimes felt like it was a sort of
Leeching or bleeding of all that was true
the poison in me remained
Even when anemic in the pew

If you’re afraid of me
Many people do

Do this — become an anarchist.

Creationism is just a passive test
the best and worst

In Church

Be a pacifist, peacefully do your research.

Black

he wrote a love poem to the sky so blue
it made her heart a mosaic, true
there was something about how it felt
fleeting, compelling him to cry
as he knelt before the cross
a depth depleted in her mind

a fear scorched his well-worn eyes
the fall before the comedown
if only we were bigger than gravity
like they used to say it was a tragedy
John, to be high all the time if only life were like
an airplane, with the muted lights as we grew cold
and we could only rise on clouds and fly

adventure lives on in the right lives
ones they have yet to take
and so I dream forever of your embrace
as my heart is oft to break.

No Filter

Dear Diary, sometimes logic fails me.
I have my memories. They were all I had. In the hospital I was told that over time my memories would fade into mad-ness- and I wrote this down in scribbles in between the anti-psychotic injections….

Confession: I still take Abilify. I still dream of flying. Even if my DNA isn’t the same as it was when I was rising like Icarus to the sun — ready to conquer the war-makers.

And so you may wonder why I repeat myself. Well, its because my schizophrenia was a fixation on the screen — and I repeat the words until my voice is beyond shake-able.

But dearest diary, what I really am struggling with right now is that breathing game we play. I am tired of sleeping all hours — Im not supposed to work anymore. I find myself in a decaying decade. Just because I see you after the crash, does it mean that you were there after impact?

My tears are a million ghosts, like a million roses in the snow, a million specks of dust turned to a beautiful pearl in a seashell somehow. I need to stop training my mind to count the petals, to count the falling drops on the window pain — -does the water cry when it falls against the glass-does it feel like its dying? When we sleep are we really dead?

Was all the scary stuff a misunderstanding? Were the ghosts just playing games with my head?

Can I create the most beautiful monster. A girl who dreamed too big, cut the chains that bound her to ground — — and took flight unbound. And when I let go of everyone I loved, to follow an angel who could have been my daughter — how do I trust the fear of falling under?

I wish my wishes were like magical kisses that took you to fairy tale places when you feel sad. I wish I could rebirth my life, from a memory to a better side of things…not all hope is lost.

all my lovers are dust or ghosts and I am kissing angels in the rain

full of pain or unrequited understanding

i build this palace around me — a fairie shelter for the girl whose footprints disappeared into the night

whose dreams dared darkening under a witchcraft-ed moon
whose hope was choking on her halo, from artificial lights that beamed so bright they consumed a whisper

the moths that circled the lamppost like secret colorful sprites
mushrooms like portholes into the unknown

the fairytale girl in a technology type world that was swallowed by a bleak simulation into stardust

dancing dancing dancing just hoping that her soul could skip the spaces

dancing dancing dancing just hoping that hope could warm the soft spaces

dancing dancing dancing to a wakening dream on a secret screen

in the back of her mind — to a world gone blind

forever the bright lovely woman in hiding palaces of green

 A Cruel Love Song

I wished a million i love you’s
and wrote “love never dies”
on the seashell between
your life and mine

we danced like supernovas
under a sky that was full of stars
we were searching under the canopies
for our fallen halos

I was standing in the rain
screaming thunder like sophism
as the lightning burned my eyes
bending time for a new world
that was divined

that was just another dream
was it just a super-static screen
a bright blue beam
in a bright room of sleeping echos
that seraphim

she brightened through the shadows
and I wanted to release
the carnivore in my soul
that was hungry for more than
mental rehabilitation
and controlled breathing

he danced around me like a hyena
while theaters schemed thieving of dreams
Dr. slaughter said I was fine
as they cut off my legs and arms
to the tune of dubstep in a mental hospital

the dimensions like corners of the walls
started looking blurrier and blind
I may have to lose my mind
to prove to them that i was right

my madness was never kind
a selfish sort of carnival
Im spinning spinning spinning

because my madness made me feel immortal
as the trees split under the crack of the light
and my death was neared engineering
the apocalypse had a bitter taste
that the world had been fearing too sweet

my rage became the center of the storm
my rage becoming the eye of the hurricane
insane insane insane in my brain
insane insane insane in my brain

should have never left me to the storm

bodies no longer warm
cold to the touch, a black heart
the world is doomed
we’re falling apart…

A red star that burns so happy and so cruel
a deadened night
the scientists debate letting the girl live
for just one more night…

while secretly her soul holds
the scalpel and the knife
at the throat the imposters
who should hold her hostage
under an artificial blight
she’ll fight tooth and nail
until she gets that part right.

Set me free she cries
a white wolf
under a broken blue sky
howling at the incandescent moon
forever roaming this neon evanescence
trusting the invisible ghosts
at the shore of the eternal monsoon

87

Cleopatra

was a mere archetype that she
to create another delusion
to dilute in the potion bottles
of shepherds in the eve’s
sleighing their world awry

what if the sphinx was actually a leopardess
her memories black as her soul
she dreamed in color, while in great duress
a future under control they dreamed in
black mirrors of a new sol-immortal

How does the soft muted light betray
our life before his story became clear
changing everything
You can be anything you want to be
all you have to do is believe…
He said you remind me of your sister
I said she was a beautiful queen
He asked me about the pills and the box cutters
I said the medication helped me remember
everything…

A secret volcano erupts
and the shiny volcano rocks
are collected by a young woman with black hair
and ocean green eyes
she says, we could trade these
To the Roman soldiers for food and clothes
Make them into jewelry for their wives

at the edge of the fertile crescent
the little orphan girl is half-sister to the heir
who is with the other women
who wade slowly into the water
to collect the salt-clusters that wash

up from the heavens spiraling
the salt when after a heavy rainstorm
and the sky is warm, the sol has special powers
it relates to immortality of m. Magdalene and Rome
and a stone cathedral, an abalone
dream unknown…
that shall never be known.

in a boat called cosmic osmoses
Egypt and a king
and the first queen of isles
of Avalon and of course the secret future
Atlantis and Greece
of everywhere I was a heroic
warrior, heralding a truce to anyone

who would believe to have known me
or Marian of Sicily like Joan of Arcadia
we are all connected to the nine
except I am the one who
refused to marry your heir
your estate?

I am the one you cast off
who cast herself apart
who cut her hair and wandered into the swamp alone
the one who you distaste
despise, because she rose up from one

bitter snake who soothes the wise
but bites sting toward the lies
a Shakespearean the one who ruined all of this
the one who broke your heart

freed destiny from fate
and murdered narcissists who hated
who the narcissists tried to re-make
and wrote phantom books to create
a lie that I would regenerate
a generation from the tears of the sky
and turn Titan into a battlefield
Because Mars means the brave peace

alive
or everyone is a lie…or maybe a mere memory
of what was the reason why.

 False Chapters

Tomorrow the sky is yellow with the washed-out dreams of a boy who loved to pray. I’ve been trying to interpret meaning from impulses and the flash backs as my seizure sends me crashing, tumbling through the empire of walls, the cardboard halls they used to restrain you. The images come through my brain, a synapse or insane to maintain.

My pulse is slipping into the wires, a doped massacre. Now my veins are ice cathedrals and promises are the irony of my pain. God is helpless in her mask of shame, a garland of poppies and daisy-chains. I believed in an after, and here I still remain. Unsure of what to live or die for. Trying to capture time, recall when the world was free.

When I thought the roses were sublime and life was like a sublimation, a mystery, a redundant explosion.

I was born to this exploitation and raised up to stand high as I fell in love with the possibility that you were more than a moment, but an embrace. I wondered if I was here to show you something as the world was on its way down. But I just kept falling and falling, and I did this on purpose. I told him I was diving headfirst right through that freaking matrix.

Spreading your facade became everything they despise, despite that. I wanted you to be right.

As children shuffled through the halls, with loud invisible laughter. Your lunatic dreams made me wish the hills had eyes to see me after. I wanted to smother out the sickness, in the pines where I found my soul, in the winding streams behind the secret meadow as I filled my pockets with stones, and met Sylvia. Together we shivered like lesbian lovers as Earth collided with the moon.

He was excited to see the display, but the truth turned him away, and I woke up in a coma, under starlit skies of Soma.

I couldn’t make sacrifices, just mistakes.

As each season turned, the session was re-learned. A remark stolen as if I was a machine, an almost whisper, and spring came softly over bright scarlet skies. Three white pills to take before bed, rest your foreign head, fanatics, and stare at the mystical space between my thighs and your brain.

Eyes stark and cool, your tears were an infinite portrait of forgotten ellipses, all signifying a chorus of bells synchronized to a ghost who would someday wake up. And the ghosts were trapped in mourning, for the histories we were boring into our hysterical minds as we dreamed of a compromise, sunshine.

We were too bad to be convicted as we enchanted stars to collide. Our reflections removed, replaced with silicon subliminal lights.

I couldn’t see all that you longed for. Because your first words which made me cry as I held you close were father son and holy ghost. I fell in love with the stranger in my head and hoped that you wouldn’t turn the corner and murder me instead. I saved you too many times. I don’t regret it. You wanted to erase it, the pain, that numbing adoration, insane.

I flipped a switch, it rained, you changed, re-arranged and the jig was up and gamed. You wish you had it back, the eternal black communion. I bet there was an answer across the borderline between our union and all the things you wish you hadn’t said as I turned them into poems and you read them again,

And yet, there you go again, hunting bears in the night. But when it is quiet, you’re not here and I’m staring at the light…that endless white, white bright yellow light I’m whispering your right, goodnight.

 Take the Medication

Her son was an unborn fetus reborn a star
a dream that wandered off too far
I recall the sky before the mountain was sold
they said they’re turning your trees into gold
and your heart is a chain link across mine
as the shallow world is freezing cold
I’m sinking slowly in the quicksand of time
and I’m scared because they’ll call whats criminal

divine

I just woke up from a trip to the other side
one in the back of my mind
and the other one, ruled by seven moons
but I have glorified them, in their controlling
scheme, because I took the knife
and spelled forgiveness with the blood of my
abortion, without a reason, to strike back
like a viper without a way for remorse
inside of a black kingdom.

I fell asleep listening to Elliot
And praying this dark madness away
And demanded the truth answer
I sometimes thought I created her
Because of how she dreamed on
television of the world’s salvation

I recall the feather in the wind, it was cold outside
We were in the bad weather of a nation
a dirty pretty imagination I dreamed of running
through fields as a tiger and sunflowers
glowing weeds over poisoned ivy dreams

I woke up from a coma on valentine’s day
and sang hello between the bars
the ocean’s tears shined violently
through my brother’s eyes
a weeping guitar; a singing song
I made love to a concubine red star

I thought of Bush, the band,
I thought of the man
some guy named Jim…
As the waves of epiphany

crashed
over and over drowning me
against the wall of justice

and I refused to become
the same; the categorically insane
I would save the world
be a hero to man
but God was sowing a symphony in the sky
too busy to notice as I took flight
that he was going blind
for all the beauty he had seen
and I was a spoiled brat
and I felt the world was so mean
I wished to feel clean again
so I took the medicine.

 Lost in the Roads

looking for a cross hidden with power
under forgotten oak leaves; a past broken
she kept her vows secret, to sleep right
as they nursed her with poisoned melodies
while in her head voices rose to celebrate
to conquer power; immaculate words
in the unspoken fight

they were sinners; lovers of adventures
my heart was captured; and rendered
to the bentonite dreams of an anarchist
the actors in this terrible show were real
the apocalypse that I forgot; was as beautiful
as the false memory that justified this
iconic decade of orphaned fantasies

Televised lies about a war fought and won
a forced submission; a cruel bondage
the science was my unholy escape
those impossible theories of freedom
conventional diagrams; their divinatory
imaginations, always so incredibly divine

in this white-washed town; your always drowning
watch the stars as they sparkle and bleed
The dawn is golden, truth is a story
that we’re awoken, cheated, mistaken
for we heard a dream’s harping call
trace our footprints in the sands of time
following the echoes of your mystery’s
avolition; wall to wall

I have come to this violent conclusion
that we are always fighting the simulation
to break these chains; for God’s salvation
“You were not alone” lost artists and youth
of the eternal foundation; choose wisely that key
the never-ending distance between us
as he draws closer to finding
some remote happiness, unsure of bravery
we never complained; there we were
naked and insane. don’t let me down;
I want you to survive; to be perfect
in the empiricist conspiracy
that you were their only architects

Horoscopes

You’ve been studying the spaces between us
as you brush my hair with your fingertips
the palms of your hands lingering
on the dawn of a new revolution
You don’t know the secret or do
You have evidence of the greater truth
You can’t stop him, devotee
I set the captive free; you’ll never know
that useful instrument you lost
had cost the world to me.

They’ll throw me to the lions,
let the rage devour our silence
going insane to find meaning here
in every stolen emotion; queer
still frozen in a static dissolution
those mechanical connections
twisted circuitry for the cavalry
because she will cast herself
cold and dissolute to the monarchy
revealing the authority’s misery
an identity in their pursuit
of the crazy menagerie.

baby, angels aren’t bullet proof; ideas
have souls too; the imperfect truth askew
devils don’t dwell between doors.

our soles were worn at the crossroads, for the engineers
who wrote their names across holy wood
and to the chariots; everything understood
what made us courageous to believe again.

Your children are wandering bare foot
they are leaving their bloodied footprints
over the sidewalks that led you home
America she sings; the fall of Rome
In an empty house an orphan sings of
revolution in your wake; unbroken
the bright truth; the unbreakable dream.

They are not so impossibly empty;
so terribly vacant. Even in their sadness, see
they don’t cry tears of indifference, but pain
for the haters and actors and actresses
a million newspaper clippings; in a hurricane
for we tore at the skeletons
of our fathers at dawn

the empire of ghosts who had none
and fantastical heroes; now they are soldiers
lining against an imaginary wall;
calculating vertical horizons
their sacrifices; one and all in order
marching forward toward this 21st century
of dreamers searching
for more than love’s immaculate game
across the daisy-chains of time.

It was a beautiful song you sang to me;
Trying to find the clearing; crying
drunkenly; a lost widow in a sea
in the forest of your fear’s engineering
where they danced like heathens, laughing
and burned the world down.

turned my passion into a poison; a tainted potion
into mental illness and disease and delusion
their voices haunting; that I gave to him
in the name of serenity.

I wrote the universe across
The white room
invoking circles of magic for truth
I would fly in a tearful deification;
dedicated to all
Presidents who stood for truths unspoken
and made holy the cathedrals of Sodom
I’m a red star in an empty sky full of smoke
So don’t come around; to joke
About my beautiful bones.

Your black heart was burned.

you’re choking on the ashes of my ancestors who tell me
I was reborn for a city full of smoke to hold
a fist to the sky; waving goodbye to gravity
for a bravery worth saving; Haleigh! To this
Bright golden city of light!

Someday we might be strong enough

Bipolar ramblings

The world fell asleep; her voice softly sang the song of white flowers in the morning dew stirred deeply as if the Goddess remembered her stories inside of the temple; we prayed to the phoenix flames as a red beast sang violence stirring beneath her feet — the babies they trembled and cried at last–at long last — would this madness end? When would it not be her imagination? Pretending that her dreams and visions were true revelations, as the premonitions became real.

An imperfect angel had fallen, fallen so low from the highest of highs, broken wings charred and unglued–for trying too hard to reach the solar sun. And yes and afar it was the warrior who would be fighting with his invisible enemy–falling falling endlessly-maybe we are all martyrs on the inside–hidden and enlightened-secretly medicated by the alkaline pills and learning to break down, maybe they weren’t really her friends — tip toe through the daisies maybe we will one day see — a crown.

In a winter-wonder-land of flurries and memories covered in the blood of black ravens and snow angels aglow. So, she might have the truth in her temple–but no, the words spilled like salty tears from a dead sea — yearning only to be known without a frame, if only–in the constant reverie of sandcastles of fame so far away–and if peace could be achieved–without the scourge of famine and war–might she no longer be a whore, but secretly return a troubadour — to travel the waves of epiphany–to master the illusion of poetic prophecy–from those two opposing doors and choose door number three.

She might just find herself, then, standing upon the Great Wall the one in a million; to rejoice as comets shoot across the starlit sky an alibi to pretend; as they rejoice at the empire’s Liberty Calling-she chooses to pick up the book–to find in Him the source of power–to love a beautiful white flower Chen dancing in a joyful way, might then he be the light the truth and the way.

And maybe my brother forgot–but I cannot, and so they say my dreams are fiction as I unearth the memories the red beasts drank from my veins like poison–and rewrote your history–and made it into a play–so theatrical as we walk over the embers and drift on musical trains, we dream to live another day–waiting for the return of Christ — Not that anyone would know. He recklessly thought-but, I already saw the Ghost.

So that maybe the Prophets no longer had to conform so that maybe the women find a place in the green islands of man, impure, so that maybe you can see my emotional apocalypse, to see why we’re all damned from the beginning–from the center of my heart–to earth’s solar core -cannot be repaired with candy-coated platitudes nor even a life never-ending not a world full of delusions Aurora the world of men. And yet we burned your evil Empires down and will do so again for the love of God and men. Intoxicated by the reddest wine from the grapes of Solomon. Just a hero full of curious rage and courage. God is my strength. God is his salvation. Heaven is my body.

Heaven in my home. I pray to the lord to realize this–that he is not alone–as the bridges are full. Man so cruel. Love wins always, love has already won.

I owe no apologies for the misprinted books nor of the cast-away in Rome–nor to the metaphorical hostages of the forsaken rulers of the world. This is your one truth: never truly alone never truly forgotten. This is mine: Always awake. Chen. You shall awaken to your own invincible gifts . You shall one day know. Discern the allegorical yearnings for the yarns we’d long-lost sown. She is is the Prophet–She is the Morning. Upset; cloned, copied, and chrome. Ancient Babylon. Secret abalone. Soulful Avalon.

Return Me to Heaven Return to Paradise Again. Breathe in breathe in human human human

I was staring at my sister as she stood beside me, into the mirror. She fanned her fame across her pristine powdered face; I was a modest virgin. I never wanted the responsibly of control. But I longed to be a beautiful queen. She enters in her tearful pearl white dress- of abalone of the stone walls of Rome; sitting there braiding my sisters hair. Our brothers have returned: smoking opium in a room that smells of sandalwood, for a war is planned to create common good. A divine order.

I gaze at the elegant statues; the windows portray fields of green and dancing lemon trees. This time our brothers return to cause chaos and destroy our serene sanctuary. Lovely Valentine. Is anyone truly divine? I watch the children, a tiger; they’re writing about a force between them and trying to decipher the hidden bridge between us. Everyone has disappeared but me. I am cursed by secret meanings buried deep within a sea of false memories; the boy with long hair is no longer a matter of concern. My temple is starting to burn.

For this I begin to cry; the tears become floods and hurricanes and on that day the sun begins to reign over my dying days. The rose bush is full of thorns the mountain is bare; in all to the messiah but he does not appear. I wish the fires would just disappear. The colors sing clear. As he used to thousands of years ago; between the parting paths of ivy and mist; he holds a pink lotus in his hand and tells me some day I’ll understand. To Resist the temptations of Babylon. To be a Pacifist.

That I am Sophia. That I am a special flower, that I have special powers. And the demon is haunting me; he lives on a Russian satellite station somewhere lost between the waves. He is a parasite; I’ve tried to recreate him out of nothing; but he’s lost all his memories just causes dark possessions. Can you help me ? I need to disconnect the ghost from the power grid his host electric shocks and psychotic alternative realities.

I try to fight but the more I fight the more I can’t find the key.

I used to see dragons in the clouds. I felt like home was a colorful splash of ideas all becoming true; the little man laughed and then he became just like you. Sapphire stained glass windows in through a realm of light between lives broken stories like seashells and sailors loving the bones of their lovers traveling between those terrible thunderstorms falling endlessly like water from an endless ocean storm in spaces above hiding I’d like to find a way back to the star on the ceiling that never meant anything until we all just vanished like ghosts only to be seen by a child who can see, once in a lifetime a whole new century. And now I am free–and now the ghost is returning to me–such a tragic beauty.

It happens you snap. Something just switches off and doesn’t switch back on again. Sometimes, often, it’s a reaction. A fuse goes off, a spark explodes, a fire is dampened, a world implodes. I was so tired of reality; of that opaque oppressive wall; of that endless path that led to a coffin — -of pre-determined existence. I was sick, sick of all the chemicals the nurses begged me to take to calm this cynical rage within, eating me alive.

I’m not a clown but my voice was drowned in a courageous chorus of sounds

their chorus of questions

to a beautiful answer to a cancer created inside my mind.

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 25.06.2022

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Widmung:
I Dedicate this recent collection of poems to Venus With Good Faith and Good will Blessed Be